In the Seattle Mariners’ dugout, players didn’t know how to react. They had just seen a rookie account for six outs in three at-bats—the first three at-bats of his big league career.

“Half of us felt sorry for him,” says Ben Davis, the Mariners catcher that day and now an analyst for CSN Philadelphia. “The other half, I don’t want to say it was comical, but it was like, is this really happening? We were like, is this real?”

Yes, it was, the kind of real only baseball provides. Ten years ago today, Ron Wright batted three times and went strikeout, triple play, double play. As bad as his teammates felt for him for his inauspicious start, it gets worse: Wright never batted again in the majors.

“It was like all these emotions in one. One, we were happy that he’s in the big leagues in his first game. Then he accounted for all those outs, which was not good obviously. But then we chuckled: What are the odds? They’re astronomical,” Davis says. “It stinks. Think about all the hours, all the batting practice, all the bus rides he took in the minor leagues, he finally gets to the big leagues with a chance to do something, and this happens. But I would say probably 99 percent of the people in the world would say they’d still love the opportunity to go and make six outs.”

Wright happily counts himself among that 99 percent. He is a pharmacist now, and when Sporting News reached him via phone this week and asked if he was “that” Ron Wright, he laughed. He looks back fondly at his time in the big leagues—however short it was.

“Yeah, I could be bitter about it for the rest of my life. Or I can be grateful for those three at-bats,” he says.

He chooses to be grateful because of what he went through to get there. His big league career was a triumph of perseverance even if it was a failure at the plate.

“Playing baseball, don’t get me wrong, was what I lived for for a long time,” he says. “But there are more important things. My wife and kids (he has four), family, things like that. It’s about perspective.”

Wright learned that perspective the hard way. A seventh-round pick of the Atlanta Braves in 1994, he tore up minor league pitching. He hit 68 home runs in his first two full minor league seasons. He didn’t just hit balls over fences. He hit them over scoreboards and concession stands. He was traded to the Pittsburgh Pirates, with whom he earned a September call-up in 1997 after a solid season at Class AAA.

But he had a wrist injury, and the Pirates feared making it worse. He was never activated. He was there to get used to life in the big leagues because the Pirates figured he’d spend a long time there.

Early in the 1998 season, while in Class AAA, Wright was stretching when he felt a stabbing pain in his back. He was taken off the field in an ambulance and had surgery to remove a disk. The surgeon nicked a nerve, leaving him with numbness in his right leg.

“The bottom line was, from the minute the operation happened, I was never going to be what I was before,” he says. “I knew how to hit by cheating a little bit. Before the operation, I never had to cheat.”

He missed most of 1998 and 1999. When he returned, his eyes were still good and his hands were still good, and he still could use both to hit the ball. He just couldn’t cream it like he once did. And that’s the difference between a good Class AAA player and a big leaguer.

Wright's comeback was not without setbacks. In 1999, while playing first base and chasing a foul ball, he ran into the wall and injured his leg. His teammate and roommate, Reed Secrist, helped pick him up and take him into the clubhouse.

“He wanted it so bad. He did a lot of stuff to get back. That day I carried him off the field, I was wondering if he’d ever make it back. But the perseverance he had and the determination he had, it was awesome to see that. I could care less what he did that day (in the majors). I remember seeing that he made his major league debut, and I was pretty dang happy for him,”says Secrist, who now coaches high school baseball in Utah. Coincidentally, he and Wright live in the same area and see each other occasionally.

In 2002, Wright opened the season with Class AAA Tacoma. One evening, after a game in Iowa, he was called to manager Dan Rohn’s hotel room. Mariners DH Edgar Martinez was injured, and the team needed a bat. Five years after his first trip to the big leagues, he was getting his second.

“It was surreal, after all that time,” Wright says. “He pretty much just said, ‘Edgar went down with a pulled hammy, or whatever he had, and Lou (Piniella, the Mariners manager) wants you. You won’t be going with us tomorrow, you’ll be going to Texas.’ There’s that shock. The kind of feeling, wow, it really happened. You don’t believe it for a second, then you believe it again. You call your parents and everything else, your wife. Family’s always been a really big deal for me so they’re the first people I called.”

"“Yeah, I could be bitter about it for the rest of my life. Or I can be grateful for those three at-bats,” Wright says."

He sat the bench for two games before getting a start at DH in a Sunday afternoon game against the Texas Rangers. He was more excited than nervous when he stepped in for his first big league at-bat in the top of the second inning.

John Olerud was on first and Ruben Sierra on second. Kenny Rogers, a crafty lefty, was on the mound for the Rangers. The only thing Wright regrets from that day is the first thing that happened: He watched a hittable pitch go by. He hadn’t batted for several days, and he wanted to make sure his timing was solid.

“There it was. Sitting there. And I let it go,” he says. “He carved me up that at-bat.”

He batted again in the fourth, with Sierra was on third and Olerud on first. On a 2-2 pitch, he hit a grounder up the middle. As he broke out of the box, his first thought was that he had hit it enough up the middle that the defense would get a force out, but he’d beat the throw and get an RBI. But Rogers won five Gold Gloves—including one that year. He snagged the ball and threw to shortstop Alex Rodriguez, who was covering second.

One out.

Sierra drifted off of third and headed home. Rodriguez threw to catcher Bill Haselman. Sierra tried to go back to third. Haselman threw to third baseman Hank Blalock, who threw to Rogers, who applied the tag.

Two outs.

Wright tried to reach second. Rogers fired to second baseman Michael Young, who caught the ball and tagged Wright.

Three outs.

In a matter of seconds, Wright went from thinking he had an RBI to hitting into a triple play.

“That was rough,” he says.

He came up again in the sixth, again with both Olerud and Sierra on base. He hit the ball hard … right at Rodriguez. Wright knew he was out before he was 10 feet from the plate. Mark McLemore pinch hit for him after that, and Wright was sent back to the minors a few days later.

“He thanked us for the opportunity,” Piniella told reporters at the time. “He said he’d go down, hit, and if we called him back, he promised he wouldn’t hit into another triple play.”

The chance never came. Wright played a few more years in the minors before retiring.

“Of course I’d love to get a hit, this and that, but it’s a great memory. I just wanted to get back after all the injuries, get back to that level,” Wright says. “It was more of a lifetime deal for me, you know? It was fun.”

If baseball were a person, everybody would hate it. It is a mean and unfair game, one in which hard-hit balls go right at defenders, broken-bat bloopers fall in for hits and grateful men who persevere make six outs in three at bats.

“It’s just one of those things baseball is famous for,” Wright says. “How do you explain half the stuff that goes on?”

You can’t explain half of it and the other half you wouldn’t want to. It’s better to just look back and smile, and that’s what Wright does. After all, very few men can say they played in the big leagues. Fewer still can say they were undefeated. The Mariners never lost with Wright on the active roster.